


told me everything about you (that's a bold move)

by Talls



Series: aftg au oneshots [6]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shop Around The Corner, Andrew has a confusing and terrible time, Happy Ending, Identity Porn, Idiots in Love, M/M, Neil has a baffling and mortifying time, True Love, awkward first date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27582259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talls/pseuds/Talls
Summary: Social misfit with flighty tendencies seeks email correspondence with someone who doesn’t like small talk and doesn’t ask personal questions. I don’t really know who would respond to something like this, but if you’ve ever been so alone that you knew for a fact that dying would have a net zero impact on the world, my email address is abramnewemail@hotmail.com and I want to know what you think makes people cruel.--In which Andrew gets stood up by Abram, his pen pal and soulmate, on their first date. Disheartened, he finds consolation in his most annoying coworker, Neil Josten, who coincidentally shows up alone at the restaurant at the same time.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: aftg au oneshots [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017799
Comments: 71
Kudos: 551





	told me everything about you (that's a bold move)

**Author's Note:**

> this story was half done in my drafts in 2019 after a watch of my favorite movie of all time, Shop Around The Corner. It sat unfinished on the back burner until yesterday when I had a sudden revelation from god that i wouldn't be able to work on chapter 8 of the time traveler story until I posted this. I stayed awake until four and then finished it up this morning, and just finished editing now. i hope you like it I still have no idea what I think of it!!!!!
> 
> EDIT: hi guys, just as point of clarification, you've got mail is a modern-day adaptation of "shop around the corner" - a 1940's movie that should be available to rent on amazon prime and also is the best movie of all time. I 100% do not like you've got mail's interpretation of the movie, and I think if you liked you've got mail, you will LOVE LOVE LOVE shop around the corner, which is the perfect rom com and makes me happier than almost any movie ever
> 
> As always, thanks to lexie for reading it over and lending me her insight!! she has the keenest literary mind this side of the mississippi!!!!

Andrew is fidgeting. He can’t remember the last time he fidgeted. He adjusts the sleeves of his navy button down, fiddles with his top button, decides to unbutton it, buttons it again, then finally decides to unbutton it but leave the ends together. He rearranges the flower on the table so it’s more prominent, more visible to passers by. He looks at his watch. _7:33_ Abram is officially late. He’s being unreasonable, he knows, traffic might have held him up, his cat may have perished, and honestly, it’s not even that late, he can excuse 3 minutes of absence. He may have been waiting for 15 minutes already, but that was his decision, and he isn’t going to hold that against him. Not on their first meeting at least.

Still. Andrew feels hideously uncomfortable, sweaty and unsure in his skin in a way he can’t remember feeling ever before. He dressed up for the occasion but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s underdressed somehow, that Abram might walk in, take one look at him and then walk right out. He doesn’t think he would, but Andrew has an awful habit of disappointing the people he cares about.

This was such a mistake. All of it was such a mistake, but when Andrew saw the post, there was something in him that he couldn’t resist.

Social misfit with flighty tendencies seeks email correspondence with someone who doesn’t like small talk and doesn’t ask personal questions. I don’t really know who would respond to something like this, but if you’ve ever been so alone that you knew for a fact that dying would have a net zero impact on the world, my email address is abramnewemail@hotmail.com and I want to know what you think makes people cruel. 

Andrew had considered the wording of the question for a week, before he sat down and carefully typed out his response.

_Abram New Email at Hotmail Dot Com,_

_First, your email is ridiculous. Get a gmail like an adult.  
Second, I don’t think anything makes people cruel. I think cruelty is always a choice. What do you think?  
Third, did you ever think that your death would make a net positive impact in the world? I did for a little bit. I think believing I’d have a net zero impact is progress.  
Fourth, is this what you were looking for?_

_Joseph_

Abram had responded within hours.

_Judgy Joseph,_

_1) You’re a huge jackass.  
2) Generally speaking, I agree with you. I know it’s a conscious decision to be cruel for most people, but I’ve met some truly evil people in my life, people who saw something in cruelty and violence that I’ve never been able to see. I wonder if it’s much of a choice for those people, where that kind of malice and corruption seems like the only reality in a fake world.  
3) I don’t know if I ever got to that point exactly. But I’ve lived my whole life at zero, and I’m honestly getting tired of it. I want to be someone with weight, if that makes sense. Someone real. I get the impression that you’re a very real person.  
4) I deleted my original post. You’re exactly who I was looking for._

_Abram._

Andrew spent three days agonizing over a follow up, and continued to do so over the course of exactly one hundred and ninety nine emails, at which point Abram asked him if he wanted to meet in real life. They both lived in the same city, after all, and maybe at the beginning personal questions wouldn't make sense, but now things were different. They were different to each other.

Andrew closes his eyes to stop himself from checking his watch again. It will be fine. When he opens his eyes, Abram will be there, and he’ll be around Andrew’s age, and he’ll be decent looking. Andrew doesn’t need better than decent, he could even do with passable, as long as it’s Abram. He’ll open his eyes, and Abram will be there, and Andrew won’t smile, but Abram will, and Andrew will finally know what it is like to be seen and known.

“Andrew? Andrew Minyard?” A familiar voice says, as if summoned from the very depths of Tartarus, the single worst thing that could possibly happen to Andrew right now in this moment. Andrew wants to keep his eyes closed, but he recognizes that would be weakness in the face of someone who cannot ever see weakness.

Andrew opens his eyes, hoping he is being overdramatic, that this is actually not the problem he thinks it is. His eyes focus on the figure in front of him. Fuck.

“What are you doing here?” Andrew asks blandly, staring up at the improbably handsome Neil Josten, his most annoying coworker. Neil flinches the slightest bit, a strange reaction to a standard question, but his features resolve back into a light smirk, cocky and calculating.

“Well, it’s a restaurant, so I was planning on eating. What about you? Eating alone?” Neil asks. The last question doesn’t have the ring of judgement Andrew expects. Andrew doesn’t respond, unwilling to lie, but unwilling to reveal his true purpose here. Neil’s smile spreads a little on his face. “Well, so was I,” Neil says, before sliding with catlike grace into the chair across from Andrew.

“Get up,” Andrew grits out. He looks up to the entrance, just to make sure nobody is looking at them sitting together.

“Why?” Neil says, resolutely not moving. “We’re both eating alone, right? Why not make a meal of it, try and have a decent conversation instead of fighting like always.” Andrew looks back at the entrance, damningly.

“Oh, I see. You’re waiting for someone, aren’t you?”

“Yes, now leave,” Andrew says, finally caught out.

“Why?” Neil says, smiling winningly. It’s the smile that makes people buy upcharged goods, the smile that makes Wymack forgive him every time he loses it at a customer, the smile that makes Andrew’s heart jump, every time, even now.

“What do you mean why? I’m expecting someone, now get out of the seat,” Andrew responds, nonplussed. Just because his heart skipped a beat, doesn’t mean Neil just gets to have what he wants.

“When were you supposed to meet?” Neil asks.

“Seven-thirty,” Andrew responds.

“Well then, he’s already late, he won’t get mad at me for keeping you company while you waited on him,” Neil responds, spreading his hands as if he’s just solved a problem.

“He’s barely late, and he’s expecting me to be alone,” Andrew says.

“Then you can tell me when he walks in and I’ll get up and go,” Neil says, and unfortunately it’s a logical offer. Andrew closes his eyes, breathes in, makes a quick and meaningless bargain of faith for patience with Renee’s god.

“I cannot do that,” Andrew says, desperate for Neil not to ask any questions. It’s a futile hope.

“Why not?” Neil asks, like the nosy bastard he is.

“I do not know what he looks like,” Andrew admits through gritted teeth. He waits for the ridicule.

“Oh, so a blind date then?” Neil says, again, no judgment, just curiosity. His face is open and interested.

“Not quite,” Andrew says.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Neil says earnestly. “I can’t tell you how many times I get set up on dates with people. Matt and Allison alone have me going on two dates a week, it’s exhausting. Let me guess, Nicky set you up?”

Andrew would like never to hear about all the fun and exhausting dates Neil is going on all the time. If he never hears about it again, actually, he’ll die content.

“No,” Andrew says. He looks at the entrance again. Nobody with a flower. He looks down at his hands.

“He’s probably just stuck in traffic or something,” Neil says, in a rare display of compassion. Andrew looks up at him. For some reason, it feels like he’s lying. Andrew looks back down at his hands. “Why does it seem like you actually care about this?”

“I don’t care about anything,” Andrew says, a cheap escape out of a horrific conversation.

“You do, don’t you?” Neil says, and now there’s something new in his voice, something like discomfort, something like awe. “For a blind date?”

“It’s not a blind date,” Andrew says, giving up the ghost. He looks down at his watch. 7:40 Abram is officially ten minutes late. Andrew swallows, his throat very dry all of a sudden. He reaches for his water glass, takes a sip. Neil watches patiently as he does. “We’ve spoken before. Or, I guess we’ve written.”

“What, like a pen pal?” Neil asks. Andrew nods. “Is he foreign or something?”

“I don’t think so, but I really wouldn’t know. He’s mentioned living in a lot of places.” Andrew is mostly giving up at this point, lost against the relentless siege of Neil Josten, who knows no boundaries and no limits apparently. Also, Neil is a nice distraction from the rising and smothering disappointment that unravels in his gut with every second that Abram is late.

“I was more asking how you got into a pen pal program, but I guess it’s cool that he’s lived in a few places,” Neil says, voice faintly mocking. Andrew’s cheeks heat up.

“Right. We met on Craigslist,” Andrew says.

“Oh wow,” Neil reacts.

“It wasn’t like anything you’re thinking,” Andrew says, suddenly defensive. Usually, Andrew couldn’t give less of a shit about what people think about him, but for some reason, this connection he has with Abram feels like it shouldn’t be received with scorn or judgment. It feels pure, and right, and Andrew doesn’t want Neil to touch it.

“How do you know he’s not a predator?” Neil asks, eyes oddly intent.

“I’ve known too many predators,” Andrew responds, and Neil doesn’t fight him on that, surprisingly. Neil has the unfortunate tendency to surprise him. Abram doesn’t, Andrew thinks, wondering why he’s comparing the two. It’s true though. Abram is a rock the way Neil is shifting sands. He can be trusted to listen, not just to the things Andrew says, but also to the things he doesn’t say, the wealth of meaning in the absences between his words.

“And you’re meeting him for the first time tonight, huh? How is he supposed to know which of these restaurant-goers you are?” Neil asks. Andrew picks up the hydrangea clipping he left on the table.

“He has his own, apparently,” Andrew says. “But I think he probably also expects to look for the tables that have only one person seated,” Andrew says pointedly, once again looking up to the entrance of the restaurant. Nothing, again.

“Whose idea was the hydrangea?” Neil asks skeptically.

“His,” Andrew answers. Neil’s lips twist oddly.

“Well, it’s an odd choice, if we’re going by flower meanings. A hydrangea means frigidity and heartlessness.”

“It has two meanings,” Andrew counters, because it’s not like he didn’t look it up immediately once that was the agreed upon signal. “The other is gratitude for being understood.”

“And do you?” Neil asks, head cocked to the side like a fox.

“Do I what?”

“Feel understood?” Andrew sits back in his chair and looks over Neil’s left shoulder, giving the question the consideration it deserves.

“Yes,” Andrew finally decides, because he does feel understood, like he’s never felt before. Abram may not know his name or his job, but he knows about his fear of heights and his difficulty wanting things, he references Andrew’s protective nature without any judgment, he understands Andrew’s need for privacy and boundaries, and he never attempts to push Andrew past them.

“That’s a rare feeling,” Neil says wistfully. Andrew refocuses on his face.

“Yes, it is.” They’re silent for a bit. A waiter comes by and fills the water glass on Neil’s side of the table. Andrew thinks about interfering, but Abram is now seventeen minutes late, and Andrew has never been faulted for an overabundance of hope.

“So, tell me about this guy,” Neil says, taking a sip of water and staring intently at Andrew.

“He goes by Abram. What else I know about him should not be shared,” Andrew says. 

“Is he in Witsec or something?” Neil asks, with a rare expression of genuine delight on his face.

“If he was I wouldn’t know. We don’t give each other any personal information,” Andrew says.

“So you genuinely don’t know anything about this guy?” Neil asks. “Not his name, not his job, not his Instagram?”

“No,” Andrew says.

“What if he’s a creep? Or a dweeb?” Neil asks. “You’re one of the most suspicious people I’ve ever met in my life, how can you not have been curious?”

“Of course I was curious, why do you think I’m sitting here attempting to meet him?” Andrew asks, exasperated. He stares at the salt shaker on the table. Apparently, Abram was not as curious as he. “And he’s not a creep. Though he may prove to be a dweeb,” he adds, genuinely thinking about it for a second. Abram is potentially a genius, what with his command of foreign languages and random trivia knowledge that only seemed to pop up at the oddest of times.

Then again, maybe Abram just liberally used Google Translate. Maybe Abram copy-pasted trivia fun facts to his emails, maybe Abram lied the whole time about everything, and this date was the punchline of a months-long joke. Andrew gets stood up. Hold for laughter.

“Can I ask you something?” Neil asks, and Andrew rolls his eyes.

“You’ve been asking questions this entire time,” Andrew points out, quite correctly.

“What is it about this guy? I mean, I’ve never seen you like this about anyone, and I think I’ve seen your boyfriends come to the store,” Neil asks.

“First of all, they weren’t boyfriends, they were hookups with delusions of commitment,” Andrew says, thinking about how forcefully he had to tell both Shane and Connor never to come to his place of work again after they both showed up to surprise him with coffee at the same time. “Second of all, what makes you think I’m gonna tell you something so personal?” 

“Because nothing’s stopped you so far?” Neil asks, but Andrew’s brief moment of vulnerability has ended. Abram is not coming. Whether or not Andrew will get an excuse for his absence is just a matter of time. Either way, he’s tired of this conversation.

“I gave you an inch, not a mile,” Andrew says. He looks down at the menu in front of him, seeing none of the words.

“I never like any of the people I go on the dates with,” Neil blurts. Andrew looks back up at him, very slowly. Neil looks uncharacteristically uncomfortable, and a dull flush is rising in his brown skin. “I try every time, honest to god, but it’s a catch twenty-two. Either they like the facade I put up or they see through it and want nothing to do with me,” Neil explains. Andrew abruptly realizes that Neil is offering him a trade - vulnerability for vulnerability. His blue eyes are devastating under his long dark lashes. Andrew idly posits that there’s no way Abram could be as beautiful as Neil, before he forcefully shakes the thought off. Abram doesn’t need to be as beautiful as Neil. He just has to be Abram.

“What’s wrong with them believing your facade?” Andrew asks. “Isn’t that the whole point of a date? Two people lie to each other convincingly enough that they can have sex later?”

“What makes you think I would want to have sex with someone who bought my lies?” Neil asks.

“Who doesn’t buy your lies?” Andrew asks, genuinely curious. Neil is an incredibly accomplished liar.

“So far only one person,” Neil says, eyes suddenly very intent. It might be wishful thinking, but Andrew thinks he might know who Neil is talking about. He clears his throat and Neil looks down at the menu. “Anyway, wasn’t this supposed to be a date? Was that what you were going for with this other guy? Lies, then sex?”

“I don’t lie,” Andrew says, and Neil rolls his eyes.

“Right, you just exploit semantic loopholes, speak around the subject, or straight up refuse to speak,” Neil says, and Andrew narrows his eyes.

“Which is why I don’t date,” Andrew continues as if Neil hadn’t spoken. “This isn’t a date in that sense. He and I already know each other. There’s nothing to convince me of,” Andrew says.

“You’re so sure he’s going to live up to your expectations,” Neil says.

“I was,” Andrew responds, because if Abram lived up to Andrew’s expectations, he would have done the improbable and actually showed up. Neil twists his lips in an unfamiliar grimace. “You asked me a question,” Andrew says, because he might not be kind, but he is always fair.

“I did,” Neil says, cautiously. _What is it about Abram?_ Andrew muses.

“He knows me. He makes me want to be known,” Andrew says, after thinking for a long time. Neil looks like he actually understands for once, and that makes Andrew reckless. “He’s unfathomably brave and surprisingly mean and probably batshit crazy. He saw the worst of the world and decided to try and be a part of making it better instead of giving up on it entirely. He makes me want to think about my life in different terms.”

“He sounds made-up,” Neil responds, his voice surprisingly nasty for some reason. Andrew’s fists clench involuntarily in defense of Abram. “He sounds like a fairy tale some loser made up about himself to justify his own moral failings and inability to follow through.”

“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” Andrew asks as evenly as he can, his heart beating fast for some reason. Neil looks wild-eyed, and his voice is rising, though not enough to attract attention yet.

“He didn’t show up because he’s a fucking coward, and he convinced you that he’s brave because he’s a liar, and he’ll probably email you tomorrow with an apology and a rain check, because you’re the only worthwhile part of his life,” Neil says. Andrew’s eyes narrow. Neil has acted weird this entire conversation, but now his words are landing firmly on the wrong side of personal.

Andrew drops five dollars on the table and then motions for Neil to follow him out of the restaurant. The waitress says something behind them, but Andrew doesn’t hear her. Andrew leads Neil out of the restaurant and around a corner before he turns on him abruptly, facing him on the almost empty sidewalk.

“Who is he?” Andrew asks. Neil’s eyes widen. “I know you, Neil. You’re the least likely to get involved in store gossip unless something directly or indirectly involves you. You’re anti-interventionist, and you sat down in front of me and intervened. You’re not involved on my end, so you must be involved on his. Who is he and why isn’t he here?” Andrew asks.

There’s a long silence where something very complicated happens on Neil’s face.

“Kevin,” Neil finally says, his expression inscrutable. Andrew looks up at his gorgeous scarred face, and something very small and precious in his brain short-circuits. He shakes his head.

“No,” Andrew says. “No, it’s not.”

“It is,” Neil says, nodding very seriously. “He told me. You’re the love of his life.”

“You’re lying to me,” Andrew says, because Abram is not Kevin. He cannot be Kevin.

“He’s so glad it’s you,” Neil says. “Honestly, he just got nervous, that’s the only reason he sent me in, but I know he’s gonna be thrilled to start his new life with you. He’s always wanted to pursue Exy professionally, and with you working double-shifts at the store to support him, he might actually be able to fulfill his dreams.”

“Stop,” Andrew says. “Stop. He’s not.”

“He always wanted you. That’s why he’s always talking to you about your productivity levels and your sales reputation at work. He’s using it as an excuse to get close to you,” Neil continues.

“Kevin is not Abram, Neil,” Andrew says.

“Wait,” Neil says. “Are you saying you don’t feel the same way?”

“Jesus Christ, Neil, are you fucking kidding me?” Andrew asks, almost laughing. “It’s fucking Kevin. He’s got a personality even a mother couldn’t love, he can’t be-,” he stops, staring into middle distance. God, what if it is? What if Kevin is actually his Abram, the love of Andrew's stupid life. He looks up at Neil, who looks right back down at him, his cheeks pink in the evening chill. Andrew swallows. It’s very quiet on the street. Neil’s face is very serious, and Andrew thinks that not even Kevin is quite as beautiful as Neil.

“Kevin is the worst-case scenario, right?” Neil asks in a tentative voice. Andrew furrows his brows. “I mean, you’d definitely prefer it if Abram was someone else, right?”

“What are you getting at?” Andrew says. He feels very tired and very stupid and very led on, and he wants to go home and call Aaron and listen to his niece babble incoherently into the phone and forget that any of this miserable fucking night happened at all.

“Wouldn’t it be better if it was me instead?” Neil says, his voice just a hair too loud. Andrew’s mouth falls open a bit. Neil’s face flushes but he keeps talking. “Wouldn’t it be better if instead of Kevin, I was Abram, and I sat at your table and said, Andrew, this is crazy but I think you know me better than anyone else in the world.” Neil’s voice takes on a desperate edge as he talks.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Andrew warns Neil lowly.

“I know that when I first started working at the Foxhole, you were the single most annoying person I had met,” Neil says, taking a step forward. “I know you drove me absolutely crazy, all your little jibes and taunts and I gave as good as I got, even worse sometimes, and you would look at me like I had surprised you and I would think about it for hours. And then, one day, I realized that I didn’t mean any of the shitty things I was saying, but I couldn’t stop, because it was the only way I could get you to look at me,” Neil says, and god, he’s really close to Andrew now.

“You’re not making any sense,” Andrew says, trying to catch a breath without smelling warm notes of Neil’s cologne.

“I’m a coward,” Neil says in what seems like a non sequitur, “I’m a coward, and writing to you was like breathing, it felt so essential, and I tried to be honest to you, but you were so real and I was such a joke of a person, and I wanted to be brave for once.”

“Shit,” Andrew says, because now things are starting to come together.

“And it was easy to be brave with you, because I didn’t have anything to lose, but then there you were in your best button down with your hydrangea clipping, and suddenly I had everything to lose, and you were twice as brilliant and mean and gorgeous and funny as I had always imagined you would be, and I was this miserable wiseass with paranoia issues, so I lied, and I kept lying because I couldn't imagine that you would ever want me back, not as I am.”

“Abram,” Andrew says, because he gets it now. He gets everything, even.

“Forget Abram,” Neil says, and now he almost sounds unhinged. “Forget Abram, just put me out of my misery and tell me if after those first few months, when you finally got used to me, if I had asked you to get dinner with me, because I thought you were the meanest, funniest, most interesting person in the city, would you have said yes?”

The question hangs in the air between them.

“No,” Andrew says, and he watches Neil’s face crumple. “I didn’t know you back then. I hadn’t met Abram yet.”

“I said forget Abram,” Neil says, his voice despondent.

“I can’t,” Andrew says. “I’m in love with him.”

“He’s not real,” Neil says bitterly.

“Yes, he is,” Andrew says, because he was right. Abram did show up, only a few minutes late. “Yes you are,” he amends, and watches hope filter back into Neil’s blue eyes.

“Joseph,” Neil finally says, and Andrew bites back the smile that threatens to spread across his face.

“Did you at least bring the flower?” Andrew asks. Neil nods, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out a small clipping of hydrangea. Andrew takes it and tucks it behind Neil’s ear.

“Would you go to dinner with me now?” Neil asks, his voice hushed.

Andrew rolls his eyes. “Rain check,” he says, pulling Abram into his arms to kiss the living daylights out of him. They stand there for longer than they should before Andrew drags him to his car to take him home. He rushes some turns, making Neil laughs in delight, as he tries to make it home before he wakes up from this ludicrous dream where his workplace rival is secretly his soulmate.

His last coherent thought of the night is that he was wrong: it turns out Abram is exactly as beautiful as the improbably handsome Neil Josten.

**Author's Note:**

> please please please please _please_ god please tell me what you thought about this story!!! i am sustained exclusively by feedback, even if it's critical! tell me what you thought! tell me what this reminded you of! 
> 
> as always i love you very much! wish me luck out here!!!!!!!!


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